


Drunk

by AutisticWriter



Series: 50 Sentences [13]
Category: Yonderland (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Prompt Fill, Silly, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 20:59:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12176478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticWriter/pseuds/AutisticWriter
Summary: Pressley comes home drunk and Flowers looks after him.Sentence 13: “You’ve got that whole drunken-sway thing going on.”





	Drunk

Night has fallen by the time Pressley returns to the Chamber, stumbling through the front doors and making no attempt to be quiet. The sound of him slamming the doors wakes up Flowers, who had nodded off in front of the fire. Yawning, he pulls his robes on and heads off to find Pressley before he falls over.

In the corridor, he finds Pressley wandering aimlessly, wobbling unsteadily. His face is flushed and he looks groggy and unfocused. There is a huge grin on his face, and he giggles to himself like something is funny.

Flowers clears his throat and Pressley spots him. He staggers towards him, a bottle of ale gripped in his hand.

“Flowers!” he cries, slurring his words. “How’re you?”

“Tired,” he says. “You?”

“Had a g-great time!”

Flowers smiles. “Did you have a lot to drink?”

Pressley frowns. “How d’you know?”

“You’ve got that whole drunken-sway thing going on.”

“Really?” Pressley says, just before he lurches sideways and almost trips over his own feet.

“Come in here,” he says, grabbing his arm.

“Wha’ for?” Pressley mumbles, leaning against Flowers.

Struggling to keep him upright, Flowers steers Pressley towards the sitting room. “So you can sit down.”

“Why?”

“So you don’t fall over.”

Pressley grins, and pats his face with a sweaty hand. “You know m-me so well.”

They both stumble into the room and collapse on the sofa. Pressley’s head flops against his shoulder, and his breath smells like alcohol.

“L-Love you,” he slurs, and he presses a clumsy kiss to his face.

Flowers smiles. “Love you too.”

 

* * *

 

In the morning, Choop wanders into the sitting room. He finds Pressley and Flowers cuddled up together, fast asleep. But rather than waking them up, he covers them with a blanket and heads off to get some breakfast.


End file.
